Ick
by ardavenport
Summary: Ahsoka attends a solemn Jedi rite and wonders about one inconvenience of being Skywalker's padawan.


**ICK**

by ardavenport

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Ahsoka Tano carefully descended the stone stairs, holding up the hem of her robe. Others arrived behind her. Slowly, quietly, this ancient hall in the Jedi Temple was filling up. She spotted her Master, Anakin Skywalker, amidst the throng of muted, varied-hued brown hoods. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, she hurried to him, weaving among the robed bodies.

"Ah, Ahsoka. I believe you know Master Tera Sinube." Skywalker smirked under his hood.

Ahsoka bowed to the elder Master, who returned it over his cane.

"I see you have learned to move with more deliberation, young one." He smiled, his long, creased old nose wrinkling even more.

"Yes, well," Ahsoka brushed the robe back, "I guess I'm dressed for it."

Master Sinube chuckled, nodded to Skywalker and hobbled off. He moved slow, but Ahsoka had seen him act with Jedi speed. And he'd taught her that the fastest one didn't always get there first.

Sinube's robe was slit up the back to allow an exit for his long tufted tail. And it was cut well above the floor, sensibly out of the way. But Ahsoka knew that if she did that she would look like a youngling who had grown out of her clothes.

Her Master cleared his throat.

She looked up. His hand lightly tugged on the edge of his hood.

Grimacing, she reached up to grasp the edges of her own hood. The trip-hazard robe was bad enough. But with the hood up, her head looked like a giant lumpy turd. Worse, she could hardly place anything around her with her montrals covered by the heavy fabric. But it was traditional. And Jedi were all about tradition.

As the crowd slowly moved toward the large cremation chamber, she smoothed a wrinkle in the hood and glanced up at the dark annoying edge.

"Ick."

"What was that Snips?"

"Oh, nothing, Master."

Ahsoka's index finger and thumb closed on the offending hair, clinging to the edge of her hood. From the length and color, it had obviously come from her Master. How could it have gotten there? She hardly ever wore her robe. But when she did, it was always for some formal event. With her Master. But still . . . . if he were a Wookiee or a Bothan she would expect to find hairs in unpleasant places. But Skywalker had it on his head. How could be possibly have enough to shed that would get onto her?

She flicked it away with disgust. Let the floor cleaner droids deal with it.

This was definitely something that got skipped in her lessons about being a Jedi Padawan. Sometimes, Masters could be gross.

Ahsoka had grown up with fellow initiates of all species. Lots of them shed hair or skin or scales. That was fine and perfectly natural. As long as she could keep all of their disgusting discarded bits of oily or dried up tissue off of her. She was so glad that Togrutas didn't have all that. It was at least a heck of a lot easier to keep clean. She'd seen her Master clean his hair once after an unpleasant encounter with a sputtering Bortarian low life in a seedy cantina on Yazik. He needed a chemical cleaner to get things out of it; and a lot of water. What a mess. Master Skywalker already shaved off the hair that grew on his face; it seemed like it would be so much easier to shave off what grew on top of his head, too, like Master Windu. But he didn't like that idea.

They passed into the cremation chamber, dark and gloomy with sparse yellow lighting along the walls and the black square of a huge exhaust opening in the middle, over the funeral pyre. Somehow, in the midst of the Clone Wars, one aged Jedi Master had managed to die of natural causes. Master Yoda and other members of the Council thought that the was worth the formal recognition, that what had once been normal and natural was sadly now unusual.

There was a short step down and Ahsoka's robe suddenly pulled her downward, the hem caught under her foot. Frustrated, she yanked it free.

"You should mind you step, Padawan."

Even under the shadow of his hood, she could see that smirk on her Master's face. He knew she hated wearing her robe. He wore his own with ease; she had even seen him fight while wearing it.

"Oh, that's easy for you to say, Sky Guy," she grumbled. "I don't know why we have to wear these things."

"You will grow into yours, young one," a gentle voice said, directly behind and above her. Something very lightly touched her head.

Ahsoka gasped.

For one shocking instant, the hood over her head seemed to become thin and transparent and she was aware of every little motion of all the people in the room. Barely a feather touch caressed her montrals and glided down her back tail before it was gone. A tall figure, the rough brown fabric of a robe, passed by Ahsoka.

Skywalker inclined his head politely. "Master Shaak Ti."

"Master Skywalker." She inclined her head back to him. And to Ahsoka.

Cringing in embarrassment, Ahsoka looked up at the elder Togruta Council member. She smiled benevolently, her dark eyes kind and wise. The hood of her robe draped over her tall, curved montrals like a crowning veil. Nothing else could have looked less like a lumpy brown turd.

"Uuuuuuh, uuuuuhhhh." Ahsoka couldn't think of any actual words to say back. She suddenly felt like a youngling being disrespectful to her Master. Well, not disrespectful, just honest; he needed that. But she didn't do it in front of the Council at a funeral. And certainly not in front of Master Shaak Ti.

Except that . . . . now she had.

Still smiling, Shaak Ti moved on to join the rest of Council members by the head of the pyre. Ahsoka hadn't really noticed which way they were going. Skywalker greeted his former Master, Obi-Wan Kenobi, who was also on the Jedi Council. They took their positions behind Kenobi and Master Plo Koon. Shorter than anyone around her, Ahsoka could barely see the pyre, the body laid out atop it.

Shaak Ti was a few people down and Ahsoka risked a peek toward her . . . .

Shaak Ti was already looking back.

This time Ahsoka read understanding in her smile, in her eyes. Though her montrals were tall and mature, her head tails long, striped with many years of experience, her brow bejeweled with symbols of her honor and accomplishments . . . . she knew exactly how Ahsoka Tano felt, because a long ago, she had been very much like her.

Ahsoka managed her own smile back.

Then she looked forward. The room was almost full. The cremation would begin soon. Jedi did not make speeches. There would only be an announcement of the deceased's name and passing.

At her eye level, on Master Kenobi's sleeve, she saw a little glint. A short filament of shed Human hair. Master Kenobi did not shave the hair on his face and he had just as much on his head as Skywalker. Ahsoka grimaced.

"Ick."

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***_***_***_*** END ***_***_***_*****

This story was first posted on tf.n: 23-Oct-2010

**Disclaimer: **All characters and situations belong to George and Lucasfilm; I'm just playing in their sandbox.


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